"DXD: Infinite Loot System"Chapter 296: Knight Battle (Part 1)
A restless wind swept across the wide, endless plain. With a sudden flare of light, both teams' Knights appeared, the battlefield set.
Kalamaina and Siris stood shoulder to shoulder, every muscle taut, eyes fixed on their opponents. Across from them: Sairaorg's Knights. One was a golden-haired swordsman in light armor, his posture confident; the other, a younger boy clad in heavy plate, helmet tucked under his arm, astride a stallion wreathed in pale blue flames.
The golden-haired Knight bowed, hand to heart.
"We are Lord Sairaorg's Knights—Liban Crocell."
The boy followed suit.
"Beruka Furcas."
Kalamaina and Siris answered, voices cool and clear.
"We are Lord Tenra's Knights—Kalamaina."
"Siris."
Liban smiled, a hint of charm in his voice.
"To cross swords with two beautiful ladies is an honor. But for our lord's victory, we won't be holding back."
Siris's lips curled in a cold smile.
"That's just how we like it."
If these men thought their gender made them weak, they'd pay for their mistake.
The host's voice rang out, amplified across the arena.
"Excellent spirit from both sides! Knights, ready yourselves—the battle begins now!"
Cheers thundered from the stands. In the alternate space, the four Knights moved as one.
"Beruka, let's go!"
"Understood!"
Liban drew his sword in a fluid motion; Beruka donned his helmet, his blue-flamed steed pawing at the ground. They surged forward, closing the distance with deadly intent.
Kalamaina and Siris exchanged a glance. In perfect sync, they summoned their blades—a demonic sword in Kalamaina's hand, a holy sword in Siris's. Together, they plunged their swords into the earth.
"Demonic Sword Birth!"
"Holy Sword Creation!"
A blinding cascade of light erupted. Rows of razor-sharp swords—holy and demonic—sprang from the ground, forming a dense barricade before the girls. Liban and Beruka were forced to react instantly.
"Urgh—!"
Liban tried to dodge, but the sudden barrage left him bleeding, gashes marking his arms and side. Beruka's stallion blurred, leaping skyward in a streak of blue fire, shielding its master from harm.
The host's voice soared, excitement infectious.
"Incredible! Lord Tenra's Knights open with their trump cards!"
Azazel chimed in, voice lazy but sharp.
"They're using Holy Sword Creation and Demonic Sword Birth—two Sacred Gears. Didn't expect Tenra to hand those out. Sairaorg's Knights are in trouble now."
The crowd's energy spiked, the match's intensity drawing everyone in.
From the VIP seats, Ravel and Kunou shouted encouragement.
"Kalamaina! Siris! Take them down!"
"Go, go, big sisters!"
Back in the fight, Kalamaina called out,
"Siris, I'll handle Furcas. Crocell is yours."
"Got it!"
Kalamaina shot upward, sword flashing; Siris charged Liban, holy blade gleaming.
—
Steel rang against steel—a blur of movement in the sky.
Kalamaina and Beruka clashed, swords sparking, the blue-flamed stallion kicking up embers as it weaved through the air. Both fighters were breathing hard, neither willing to yield.
Beruka laughed, wild and exhilarated.
"Haha! Now this is a Knight's duel. Again!"
He snapped his reins, and the stallion surged toward Kalamaina, a comet of blue fire.
Kalamaina twisted, blade horizontal, barely dodging the charge. Her Knight's speed let her escape for a moment, but Beruka and his mount gave chase, relentless.
Above the arena, the commentators kept pace:
"Unbelievable speed—if you blink, you'll miss their moves!"
"Knight pieces are all about speed. It's only natural."
"Beruka's mount is something else—not just those blue flames, but its agility. Kalamaina's in for a tough fight."
Azazel explained,
"That's a Pale Horse from the lowest depths of Hell and Cocytus. Only upper-class Devils and death gods use them. They're high-grade magical beasts—called horses of death and destruction."
Diehauser added,
"Pale Horses are notoriously volatile. If they don't like you, they'll burn or kick you to death—master or not. Furcas is the horse clan, though. Beruka's a prodigy, and his partnership with that mount is flawless. Kalamaina's got her work cut out for her."
The struggle was real. Beruka's swordsmanship was sharp, but the Pale Horse was the real problem—faster and more agile than even Kalamaina. She'd tried to target the mount, but Beruka always intercepted, moving with uncanny unity. Separating the two was no easy task.
Kalamaina was fighting uphill, but the battle was far from decided.
On the ground, Siris and Liban's duel hit its peak.
Liban, wounded from the opening barrage, was now on the defensive. Siris pressed her advantage, her holy sword forcing the Devil Knight to retreat. Devils feared holy blades—and Liban was no exception.
Siris leapt high, sword raised for the finishing blow.
"It's over!"
But Liban didn't panic. Instead, a flash of relief crossed his face—his eyes glinting strangely. In the next instant:
"Ah!"
Siris cried out as she was yanked from the air, slammed to the ground. The earth beneath her warped, buckling inward, the space itself distorting.
"What—?"
She wasn't hurt, but she struggled to rise, every movement weighted down. The gravity around her had multiplied several times over.
Liban spoke, voice calm and proud.
"This is the power of my Sacred Gear—Gravity Jail. Anywhere my gaze lands, I control the gravity."
Siris's eyes widened.
"A Sacred Gear?"
Liban nodded.
"I'm a half-blood—Crocell clan and a human mage. Luck was on my side; the gods granted me this power."
He managed a shaky smile.
"Honestly, I almost didn't activate it in time. Your attacks were fierce—I barely got my Sacred Gear off."
Siris cursed inwardly. Victory had been within reach, and now this setback.
Her body felt impossibly heavy. Her strength was cut in half, at best. She'd been so close…
Liban grimaced,
"I don't discriminate against women, but looking this pathetic in front of my King and all these spectators… it's embarrassing."
He raised his sword, face serious.
"Knight Siris, brace yourself. It's my turn to strike back."
Siris's eyes flashed.
"Bring it."
Sacred Gear or not, she refused to back down. She would win—for Tenra.
Liban's sword tip shimmered with magic.
"Demonic Sword—Thousand Thrusts!"
He lunged—not once, but in a flurry, dozens of blades overlapping in a storm.
Liban was a master magic swordsman, blending blade and sorcery. Siris's scalp prickled at the sight, but she swung her holy sword, blocking as best she could.
But the crushing gravity slowed her down—she couldn't keep up. Red lines bloomed across her arms and sides as Liban's blades found their mark.
The crowd outside erupted, swept up in the drama.
Kalamaina was struggling; Siris was on the back foot. For Tenra's Knights, things looked grim.
In the audience, Ile and Nel clutched each other, faces tense. Yubelluna, Xuelan, and the others watched in silent worry for their sisters.
Tenra stood at the platform's edge, his expression unreadable.
Win or lose, he would never look away from his Knights' battle.
But even now, with the odds against them, Tenra believed in his Knights.
Because they were his—Tenra Kamiyo's Knights.
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